Three More Kisses
by preshea
Summary: A post iKiss fic. Sam and Freddie share a few more kisses, in spite of it all.


The first kiss was nice.

Nice as anything that made Sam shake and stumble like a one-legged chicken after drinking a case of Peppy Cola. She slipped into the studio watching but seeing little as Carly finished the show by herself with a mix of clips and Tricks With Meatballs.

"How was your talk with Freddie?" Carly asked, oblivious.

Sam stared at her. She forced her mouth to move. "Nice. It was nice."

Carly nodded and packed up more meatballs in ziplock bags. "I'm glad. You did the right thing, Sam."

Why did the world feel so weird? Like she was swimming through a sea of cotton? And why did her lips still tingle? "Yeah. It was the right thing," she muttered. "It was nice."

Carly raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing.

"Nice being a relative term of course," Sam continued quickly. Her bearings were coming back, but slowly.

So very slowly.

"Right," Carly said, tilting her head at Sam curiously. "Are you okay?"

Words like ice water over her head and Sam found her voice. "I'm fine!" she cried. "Why do you ask? What's makes you think I'm not fine?! I'm great! I'm ... I'm just like I always was. I haven't changed at all! I still hate Freddie!"

Carly's eyes widened. "Okay and uh, I'm happy for you?"

Sam backed away toward the door, her trembling hand on the knob. "What's to be happy about?" She stumbled back into the hall, halfway toward the elevator. She banged on the door blindly, jumping inside when it arrived, still yelling. "I'm not happy! Nothing's changed!"

But something had.

xXx

The second kiss was an accident.

There was only one soda left but the can was elusive, hiding somewhere behind the leftover tacos and an old bottle of chili sauce. Freddie stood next to Sam in front of the open refrigerator, both of them peering inside, searching, finders keepers.

They stared for a long time, the cold air hitting their faces. She turned to ask if there's really a cola left when she saw Freddie's face so close to hers, his smooth cheeks pink with cold, his eyes shyly glancing her way.

It's a sight that stole her breath, in spite of herself.

The gap closed between them. It was a short kiss, stolen and warmed Sam straight to her toes. Freddie's eyes stayed closed a few seconds longer than hers, his face flushed. She'd never say this to him but at that moment ...

He looked amazing.

"I still hate you," she whispered.

"The soda's behind the chili sauce," he replied before getting himself a glass of water and wearing a smile that was ...

Amazing.

xXx

The third kiss was an experiment.

Whatever had happened between them before couldn't honestly be happening and Sam was going to prove it. She waited impatiently until Carly left for the bathroom during a commercial break, checking her watch to make sure she had that all important one minute and fifteen seconds to apply her theory.

It was a sneak attack, a quick grab of Freddie's cheeks and reeling him in for a long, deep kiss. Freddie's response was shock at first, but he quickly reciprocated with kisses both gentle and insistent, his hand sliding up her cheek.

Everything around Sam turned warm, and she heard a whimper escape her throat when he wound his fingers in her hair, pulling her even closer.

One minute and nine seconds and Sam heard the bathroom door open. "Oh, God," she whispered, pulling away from Freddie, the world around her tilting in crazy directions. She sat back against the couch, wondering how someone could _forget _how to breathe.

"What?" Carly said, jumping onto the couch between them. She leaned in toward the television. "What happened on the show?"

"Nothing," Freddie said quickly. "The character just ate a roast beef sandwich."

Carly laughed. "Oh, Sam. You even love fictional meat."

Sam tried to catch her hitching breath. "Yeah. I do." She hugged herself, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. "But I still hate Freddie."

Carly chuckled again while Freddie stared at the screen, as if he hadn't heard a word she said.

xXx

The fourth kiss was unavoidable.

It's like a disease, Sam thought, her hands shaking a little as she reached out to take Freddie's hand beneath Carly's kitchen table, feeling his fingers squeeze hers back, sending thrills to places she didn't know had nerves.

A wonderful, amazing, terminal disease.

He walked Sam home that night, his face kept perfectly straight as he told Carly they'd be leaving together. She looked pleased at this new truce between her best friends and oh, boy, if she only knew, but they weren't going to tell her, not yet.

Not when they didn't even know what was going on.

It was dark, but not that cold. Even so Freddie took Sam's hand and put it in his pocket, their fingers laced. He looked very calm, not at all like Sam who was pretty sure she was going insane or dying or both. "It's not so bad tonight," he said genially, the streetlamps giving him an otherworldly glow and Sam was sure it was a symptom of the disease that he suddenly looked like the most gorgeous boy on the planet. "It's been colder."

She stopped in her tracks, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "I don't hate you, Freddie. I like you. I ... I think I'm crazy about you." The words came out in a rush, breathless and Sam shook with fear, fear that she's lost it, that Freddie will laugh at her, that she's made some horrible, life-ending miscalculation.

"I know," he said easily. "And I don't hate you either." Freddie leaned in to kiss her and there's no hesitation, just a wonderful kiss that could have lasted forever, fervent and joyful. He pulled away, holding her face in his hands, beaming with happiness. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

She blinked at him. "We're in trouble, aren't we?"

Freddie laughed and pulled her close. "Terrible, terrible trouble. Isn't it great?"

xXx

end

A/N: WASN'T iISS OF THE GIDDY-MAKING, OMG??? *squee!*


End file.
